Sea Horses and Other Beasts

When I was five years old, dad loaded the family into the yellow Rambler station wagon and we set out for Long Beach to my Aunt Mary and Uncle John's house. I think the intention was just to visit. The gatherings of moms family were always very............... loud. A lot of talking. A lot of loud talking. With some loud laughter thrown in. 

The family called my Uncle John a crazy Lithuanian. He brylcreemed his hair straight back, always had a tan and smoked stinky cigars. He also told funny stories. He had served in the military and in fact, he and my Aunt Mary, moms older sister, had met while both serving in the Navy. She was stationed in Washington D.C. and came home with Uncle John. I understand it was quite the surprise.

I found him hysterical because he put such a funny twist on things and he was always so sweet to me. I don't know when I noticed the first time, but he was missing a pinky finger. I was fascinated by that, and finally screwed up the courage one day to ask him about it. He said he lost it when he was picking his nose. "Jammed my finger up my nose, pulled it out and that thing was gone!" My status as "high functioning blonde" started when I was extremely young, so of course I believed it, and spent a fair amount of time trying to get a look up his nose to see if the stump was still there. His finger was actually shot off in World War 2. 

Aunt Mary and Uncle John had an itchy mohair sectional of the very latest chic mid century vintage. It was black with sliver sparkles in it. Isn't it weird the things you remember? On this particular day they also had a puppy. When we walked in the door, this little brown flash of lightening ran toward us and of course, my brother Ming and I thought he was the best thing ever. Up until that point, we didn't have pets, but when Uncle John saw how taken we were with this puppy, he immediately told us we could have him. Never asked my dad if it was ok, just said he was ours. Who knew when we got in the Rambler that day that we'd be returning home with a wiener dog named Toby? Dad was sure that John had picked him up in a bar. I'm not sure what that connection was, but it seemed pretty important to dad.

"Tobias T. Mutt" went on to live until after I was married, and was a big part of not only my growing up years, but also my courtship with my husband. As a kid, he had some fish, guinea pigs and a desert tortoise but never had a dog of his own. My better half spent endless hours wonderfully amused watching Toby fall asleep while standing up. His legs were only a few inches long, so it didn't take much of a nod to smack his snout on the cement to wake himself up. To me, it was "just Toby." To my handsome boyfriend, it was a barrel of laughs. 

During my childhood, I also had lots of fish, water turtles, hamsters, the guinea pig and desert tortoise I inherited from my boyfriend when he went away to college, and sea horses that I had gotten through mail order. They were pretty cool, and even had babies in my care, but met their maker when my cousin tried to "help" by feeding them hot dogs. 

Little brother, Bunns, came along about a year after we got Toby. By then, Toby had gotten used to being the baby of the family and loved by all, and was quite depressed when mom and dad came home with the new baby. The rest of us could do anything we wanted to do to Toby, but if little brother just pointed at him, it sent Toby into fits of snarling and barking. 

Toby is no longer with us. But I'm glad that Bunns is still around. 

Then God said, 

"Let the earth bring forth living creatures after their kind: cattle and creeping things and beasts of the earth after their kind;" 

and it was so. 

God made the beasts of the earth after their kind, and the cattle after their kind, and everything that creeps on the ground after its kind; 

and God saw that it was good. 

Genesis 1:24-25

1964

Early 70's